


magnus must have been a really f-ed up guy

by scribble_blog



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Clawdette gets the love she deserves for being a good crab, Gen, Jonah Magnus get dunked on challenge 2k19, Multi, Now Featuring!!! happier ending continued!, almost certainly quantifiable as a crackfic, also the blowing up of the Unknowing goes off without a hitch, but Elias Bouchard gets eaten by a large crab monster in this fic, but thats background noise, i can and will promise there will not be Any angst in this story ever, i will continue to churn out crackfic so long as i have finals to procrastinate studying for, listen up folks theres nothing gory nothing bloody and absolutely nothing fact checked
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-01-25 10:22:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21354709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribble_blog/pseuds/scribble_blog
Summary: Elias underestimates Martin. Martin underestimates his own pet training abilities.Now with 100% more happy ending for our Archive Ladies
Relationships: Basira Hussain/Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 124
Kudos: 261





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is, without a doubt, the stupidest thing ive ever written  
inspired by this post  
https://this-is-a-podcast-fanblog.tumblr.com/post/188892173919/a-summary-of-the-magnus-archives-written-by  
title taken directly from post

“Hypothetically, Jon, if there were a large crab monster, which… fear, do you think that would fall under?”

Jon looks up from his notes on the statement in front of him. “I would think the… Hunt, perhaps, but it’s an animal to be caught- or maybe the Flesh, if it’s oversized and grotesque? I’m not entirely sure- it would depend on the statement, I think. Did someone run into one?”

“Oh, no, no!” Martin replied brightly. “It was just a hypothetical, Jon. Something Tim and I were discussing. Don’t worry about it!”

Jon shakes his head, going right back to his recording as Martin closes the door. “Crab monsters, really. As if we don’t have enough to be thinking about, between the Unknowing and Elias. As I was saying-“

He finishes the supplemental, still bothered. Don’t worry, how could he not be worrying? Sometimes it felt as if he was the only one really worrying about things that _should_ be worried about.

~~~~~

“You really aren’t so bad as you seem,” Martin cooed to the large mottled crab.

The thing was his height easily, taller even, though once he had stopped screaming and flailing away from it, it had scuttled to a stop and simply sat in front of him. He had tried petting it, which it seemed to tolerate. It had been days since he had found it now, since he had moved it into the tunnels and tried to make it hate Elias.

This effort usually involved the sort of training he imagined people used on dogs, where items and pictures were associated with good or bad reactions. Pictures of Jon, of Martin, of Tim and Melanie and even Basira were accompanied by items he knew they had touched, or held, and then treats, usually clams he would grab from the market. Pictures of Elias, and the singular tie that even Martin wasn’t sure how he had come to possess while still being sure it was Elias’, were accompanied by a particularly hard rap on the shell. It seemed to be working, Martin thought, as the crab managed to grab the offending tie in its claws and shred it.

“I should really give you a name,” He mused, watching it scuttle over and munch on some of the long dead worm carcasses. It had only taken a google search to find what crabs liked to eat, and this particular habit was entirely delightful, as far as he was concerned. “Maybe Clawdette? Or maybe something a little less- on the nose.”

It made a small hissing noise and scuttled back over. Martin offered another clam which it munched up, shell and all.

“This might actually work out,” Martin mused to himself.

~~~~~

Martin starts burning the statements; not Jon’s plan, his, despite what Elias thinks.

And it even works to prove exactly what they had thought- that Elias has blind spots, that he can’t actually be omnipresent in their minds, or however it is that he looks in on them.

Martin had even been expecting, on some level, the pain of whatever Elias would do to him, the tortured look on Melanie’s face clear in his memories; the fact that he had used his mother was- Martin hadn’t wanted that, hadn’t been prepared for it.

Nor had he been prepared to hear something coming as he started to sob.

But Elias lets up at the same moment, head cocking to the side and his eyes going wide as the crab bursts through the wall, breaking through what had once been Jane Prentiss’ point of entry in her invasion.

“Martin.” Elias says, very calmly for a man face to face with a crab much bigger than he is. “What have you done?”

“Ah,” Martin says, fishing for words, but the crab charges forward before he can truly offer any satisfactory answer.

There is only a split second for Elias to scream as the crab catches him in one claw, devastatingly quicker than Martin imagined his crab could be. Martin feels far less horror than he might have a few minutes ago at the idea of Elias being killed by Clawdette, but he still finds himself reaching out a hand- to help? He isn’t sure, not really, but before the movement is anything more than a thought the crab is retreating through the wall, Elias, gone and Martin is suddenly _very_ sure that he will never see his boss again.

~~~~~

When the others return, whole and alive and not blown up and not body snatched- Martin had checked, with their voices on tape- he sits down in Jon’s office.

“Statement of Martin Blackwood, taken directly from subject,” Jon says, curious at both Martin’s unwillingness to talk before this and by Elias’ extended absence despite not being in prison. “Regarding Elias Bouchard.”

“Actually, I think,” Martin corrects, a small smile on his face. “Statement of Martin Blackwood, given by subject. Regarding- well. Regarding a very large crab.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Melanie schemes, Peter Lukas does NOT appear, and good times ONLY are had by our Archives crew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the blame for this one lies entirely on my shoulders bc i love Melanie too much

“I’m sorry, _who’s_ been put up as interim director?”

Jon sighed. “Melanie. Congratulations on your temporary promotion.”

“Who made this choice?” Tim demanded again. “In what world does Melanie go from Ghost Hunt girl to Director of the Magnus Institute. Why.”

“Well, apparently Elias had a replacement in the wings,” Martin chimed in from his desk. “But he never showed up, and they couldn’t actually find a way to contact him. Which, given that his name was Peter Lukas, is probably the best outcome, really.”

“Wait, like, creepy boat man Peter Lukas?” Melanie asked. “From the statements?”

“Assumedly,” Jon sniffed disdainfully. “Although why Elias would have picked him, I guess we won’t find out.”

“How are you guys taking this so well.” Tim sounded defeated by their nonchalance.

“Oh, you know,” Melanie grinned. “Apparently, some of the other department heads saw me always talking to Elias, hanging around his office. They think he- what did they say, Jon? That he’d been _working _with me.”

“That sounds-“

“Mildly dirty, yes, Martin,” Tim interrupted. “Thank you, Melanie, much appreciated. And?”

“Well,” Jon said mildly, “when they brought all of the department heads together to try to find a replacement, they brought it up to me. And of course, I gave Melanie the most glowing recommendation I could.”

“Don’t worry, Tim,” Basira comforted. “Melanie knows what she’s doing.”

“I’ve got plans for this place,” Melanie’s smile turns just a bit too sharp.

~~~~~

Tim walks into work expecting- well. He’s not exactly sure what he was expecting, what with _Melanie_ temporarily in charge.

Melanie is still at her desk down in the archives, Rosie talking cheerfully to her.

“And what with that upcoming fundraising dinner Elias had been invited to- I’m glad you’re taking to the position so well, you should do fine. Do you know when you might settle into the office?”

“No can do, Rosie,” Melanie says apologetically. “I poked around a bit- and the man had some skeletons in the closet, let me tell you. Actually, the bones were in a drawer, but it was still enough for me to call the police back in, I say.”

Rosie just nods sympathetically. “Well, perhaps in a week or so, after they’ve gone through.”

“Of course,” Melanie offers a winning smile. “Thanks for ferrying the paperwork down here in the meantime. I’m not sure what I’d do without you.”

Tim winks at her as she leaves, but she just laughs and blows a kiss. “So, you’ve set the police on ruining Elias’ good name, hmm?”

“What?” Melanie looks up from the paperwork. “Oh, no, actually I’ve got Basira and Daisy rummaging through everything up there. I just don’t want the office.”

“Bones were real, though,” Martin says from his desk. “One Barnabas Bennett, from the statements. Got on the wrong side of the Lukases.”

“Hmm,” Tim makes a sympathetic noise. “So, what plans are you concocting for this place? And if you’re in charge now, can you fire me? Or will I still die.”

“We haven’t figured it out yet,” Basira says from behind him, slipping through the door with Daisy on her heels. “But rest assured, we’re all trying to find out. Four Leitners in that office, all turned in to Artifact Storage now.”

“Geez,” Melanie mutters under her breath. “But still no notes, or like, a diary? Sorry, he was a stuffy old man, it’d be a _journal_.”

“Not here, at least,” Daisy grumped. “I’ll be heading to his house tonight. I’ve got someone to let me in.”

“Anyway, I’m not going to try firing any of us right now, Tim,” Melanie goes back to the paperwork, fastidiously scribbling a signature on something. “I told you, I’ve got _plans_. I think you’ll enjoy being around to see them finish, at least.”

He lets out a deep, dramatic sigh. “Well, if it’s in the name of whatever the fuck you’re planning for this place, I suppose I could stick around. How long, a few more days? Weeks?”

Melanie hums in agreement. “Thank you for the update, Basira, Daisy. If there’s nothing else?”

“We’ll leave you to it,” Basira agrees. “You know where to find us.” She and Daisy slip out together, and Tim finally sits down.

“Martin?” Jon’s strangled voice comes from his office, and all three of them stand in alarm.

Tim makes it do the door first, half expecting him to be bleeding from an unidentified stab wound again, or maybe-

He opens the door and stops dead in his tracks. “Ah,” He says weakly.

“Clawdette!” Martin crows delightedly.

“Clawdette?” Melanie echoes incredulously.

“Help?” Jon says, from where he is being cornered and nuzzled by a crab.

“One moment!” Martin says brightly before rushing off, and Tim can do nothing but sit there and stare at Jon, who meets his eyes pleadingly.

“I am _not _coming any closer to that thing.” The words come out almost apologetic, but Tim is just- he lost Danny, and Sasha, and he’s been attacked by Jane Prentiss and Nikola Orsinov and he is _not _approaching the crab that killed and possibly (definitely, from what he’s heard) ate Elias.

“I am,” Melanie says, and she steps forward curiously, stretching a hand out and laying it on the large mottled shell. It didn’t retaliate, and it hadn’t started tearing into Jon yet, so Tim felt safe in letting out the breath he’d been holding.

“I’m back!” Martin shoved past Tim, heading right for the things head where it was hovering protectively over Jon. “Who’s been a good crab?” He practically cooed, reaching up and offering it a mussel. It finally moved away from Jon, who sagged against the wall, following Martin to the other side of the small room, where it finally got its treat.

“Yes, a very good crab,” Melanie joined in cooing. “Martin, can I feed Clawdette a treat?”

Jon stood up and straightened himself out. “Seeing as how her last treat was the former Director of this building, maybe not?”

“No, it’s ok, she knows Melanie,” Martin said. “She’ll like all of you. It was just Elias I was teaching her was bad.”

Tim meets Melanie and Jon’s eyes in the same split second.

“You trained the crab to kill Elias.”

“Not kill!” Martin objected, even as he handed Melanie a few shells. “But yeah, I would- you know, like when you acclimate a pet to a new house, and you bring in things that smell like the family? I would show her pictures of you guys, or things that you brought in, and I’d give her treats, and then I would show her Elias, and somehow I got one of his ties, and I’d- well, I’d just give her a quick rap on the shell, not hard, but-“

“You trained the crab to kill Elias.”

“Accidentally, but yes, he did,” Jon agreed.

“How did Clawdette get in here?” Melanie asked, looking around at the unbroken walls and the far too small trapdoor.

“The- Distortion,” Jon said distastefully, “Let itself in, and the crab came in after.”

“I don’t suppose Helen’ll come back to remove her?”

“Maybe if _you _ask.”

Tim glanced around. “Well, if this is all well and taken care of-“

“Nope!” Melanie popped the ‘P’. “Timothy Stoker, you get over here and give Clawdette a treat for saving us all from the big scawy bastard man, you did so good killing him, didn’t you Clawdette?” She made a show of giving the crab a two foot facsimile of Eskimo kisses, baby talking it as she hand fed it.

He sighed. “Might as well.”

~~~~~

“They’ve made it official,” Melanie said as he stepped into the office three weeks later. “Say hello to the no-longer-temporary Head of the Magnus Institute.”

Jon looked up from his own desk, which had been moved from Clawdette’s room to sit beside theirs, as they hadn’t found a way yet to remove her without causing real structural damage to the basement. “They’ll be having an informal party later tonight, to welcome her in. We’re all going.”

“Even you?” Tim said, well aware of Jon’s tendency to avoid any and all human contact that wasn’t necessary for work. Though it had been better, since the Unknowing, and better still now that he was forced to socialize out here with them instead of hiding in his office. At least between him and Martin, Melanie, Basira, Daisy. Jon even laughed, sometimes.

“Even Jon,” Melanie confirmed. “It’s actually incredibly important, that Jon be there.”

“And no, she won’t explain _why_,” Jon said waspishly.

“If I go to the party, can you fire me tomorrow?” Tim asked.

“Oh, Tim,” Melanie sighed happily. “Don’t worry. I’m going to free all of us. I have a _plan._”

~~~~~

Jon does not like crowds. But as he stands in the corner, a watery glass of punch in his hands, he can see Tim laughing with some of the old research assistants they used to work with, Martin with Rosie and two others he doesn’t know. Basira and Daisy are moving around like security, unnoticed eyes watching- he’s not sure what for, but he leaves them to it. Melanie is dressed up, standing in the center of the room and acting the part that Jon remembers Elias playing, an ear to every speaker and a word to every listener.

“Alright, Jon?”

Martin’s voice comes from right beside him; he starts, and the punch sloshes out of his cup. He barely avoids getting it all over himself.

“Christ, Martin,” He mutters, even as Martin apologizes.

“Here,” Martin dashes to the nearest table and grabs a wad of the napkins, dropping them down and then mopping it slightly with his foot. “Sorry, I should’ve-“

“No, it’s fine,” Jon sighs. “I suppose I’m just- on edge.”

“Not exactly your scene, is it?” Martin jokes, and Jon finds himself laughing again. He’s been doing that more often these last few weeks, more than he thinks he really has in- well.

“No. I’d rather still be down in the basement. I don’t suppose you’ll share whatever you know about her _plan_?”

Martin shakes his head. “I’m not in on it, not really. She’s kept it between the three of them.”

His eyes float between them- Basira, Daisy, Melanie. “She’s taking the stage.”

“Ladies, Gentlemen, assorted employees- Thank you, for being here tonight. After the dramatic and mysterious loss of our former director, Elias Douchard, I’m quite keen to be the best boss I can be for all of you in this time of transition.”

“Did she just say…”

“Yes.” Martin looked gleeful. “I saw her writing that out days ago.”

“That being said,” Melanie continued, “I’m sure I do not need to inform you that the very nature of what the Magnus Institute does is well- dramatic and mysterious. And I’d like to make it a little less so, at least for all of you who risk your lives and your livelihoods coming in to deal with what the world at large thinks is only ghost stories and tall tales. It is for that reason that I am going to use my spooky director powers to inform each of you intimately that this place is some sort of batshit temple for an eldritch fear god, Jonah Magnus was an egomaniacal idiot who managed to body hop his way into the present, and unless you would like to be rehired by the newly formed King Institute of Prevention, Protection, and Research, you are all formally **_fired._**”

The tizzy that had grown among the employees as she had spoken died down instantly upon that last word: Jon could feel the implications of it the way he could sometimes feel it when his questions _compelled_ people. And then his head split, the knowledge digging in as he dug his palms against his eyes as if the pressure outside could combat the pressure within, the _knowing_ of what the Institute was, and what Melanie and Basira and Daisy had learned of Eli- _no, Jonah Magnus’_ intentions.

He could feel Melanie watching him specifically, the way he sometimes thought he could feel Elias- Magnus, it had been Jonah Magnus, watching him. He looked up to meet her eyes, and he nodded before turning to Martin, who’s head was in his hands. Jon hesitantly reached out and grabbed one, pulling it away from his face. “Martin? Are you going to be alright?”

Martin squeezed his hand lightly. “Yes, it just-“ His face colored. “Ah, it just hurt, like when Elias- ah, shit.” He paled just as quickly as he had flushed, his hand becoming a vice on Jon’s. “Clawdette.”

He pulled Jon with him out of the room, the two of them flying down the stairs until they were at the Archives, which did not contain and enraged crab trying to make its way upstairs.

It did not contain a crab at all. And there were no signs of forced crab entry or exit, beyond the figure lounging at Jon’s desk.

“Hello, Jon,” Helen grinned. “And Martin.”

“What have you done with Clawdette.” Martin demanded, braver than he felt.

“Clawdette,” The Distortion giggled, the sound folding over itself to dizzying pitches. “That’s sweet. Don’t worry, I only put it back in the tunnels, like Melanie asked.”

“That’s- oh.” Martin deflated a bit. “As long as she’s alright?”

“Munching on worms as we speak,” Helen confirmed. “I don’t suppose either of you would like to go through my door?”

“No,” Jon said succinctly. “Thank you, but we’ll abstain.”

“If you say,” Helen said obligingly, if somewhat sadly. “Well, if you ever do change your mind.”

And then she stepped back through her own door, leaving Martin and Jon clinging to each other’s hand.

Jon takes a moment to consider the room around them, the things he had heard before the Unknowing and everything he’d been feeling since then (and even before, were he being entirely honest). He thinks about how Martin had turned pink when he had grabbed his hand only a minute ago. It comes together pretty quickly in his mind, for once.

“Ah, sorry, Jon,” Martin says, and he starts letting go. Jon tightens his grip, not too much, but enough that Martin stops disentangling their fingers.

“It’s alright, actually,” He says, and makes himself meet Martin’s eyes even as he feels his own face warm. “How would you like to go grab something for Clawdette to eat?”

Martin breaks into a smile that moves the warmth from Jon’s face to bursting in his chest, makes him smile back just as easily.

“God, Jon. How about we go grab dinner, and we can pick something up for Clawdette on the way back.”

“Yes, that- that does make rather more sense,” Jon says. Martin is still holding his hand and still smiling at him like that.

“We can deal with Melanie and all that later,” Martin says, and they keep holding hands as they make their way up the stairs, out into the evening air. “What do you like?”

“Ah- anything,” Jon says, and he can’t think of a single food he’s ever eaten.

“Anything,” Martin repeats. “Maybe we should stay away from crab though.”

~~~~~

“So.” Tim found himself next to Melanie at last in the aftermath. She’d spent two hours surrounded by the throng of previous employees, assuring them all of their generous severance packages and speaking to more of them than Tim honestly expected about – whatever she had said. Her new Institute.

“So.” Melanie said back. “I’m guessing you’re here more for the severance talk than the idea of re-hiring.”

He thinks about it. He’s been thinking about, from the moment she said fired and he felt some sort of band around his chest loosen. “I want a month of paid vacation before I even start.”

She looks at him. “Think you’re worth that?”

He laughs, long and loud and he feels happier than he’s felt in a long time. “And my severance, of course.”

“Well,” Melanie adopts an air of reluctant agreement. “With your level of experience, I suppose we’ll have to give in. Very few people applying who’ve actually gone toe to toe with these fear entities, surprisingly.”

“Wonder why,” Tim says dryly. “It couldn’t be because most of them are either dead or traumatized.”

“Welcome to the King Institute,” She holds out her hand and Tim shakes it.

“Tell Jon and Martin I’ll see them in a month, yeah?”

“Tell them yourself,” Basira says. “They’ll be back any minute from their date.”

“Date?” He feels his jaw drop. “Martin finally asked him, then? _And Jon said yes?_”

“Hmm, no, Jon asked him,” Daisy corrects. “Did a poor job of it, but he _did_ do it.”

“Oh,” Tim says softly. “Goddamnit. Sasha won the bet.”

“I’m just saying,” Jon’s voice reaches them before the man himself does. “She’ll run out of worms eventually, and mussels and clams and such will be expensive at the rate we’ll need to buy them. I’m not sure how she’s gotten by on what little we’ve fed her so far.”

“Clawdette is an official employee of mine, I’ll have you know,” Melanie calls out to them as they step in. “I’m sure her salary can go towards food.”

“Melanie!” Martin smiles at her, and Tim catches sight of their hands intertwined and whistles.

“Fucking _finally_!”

“Don’t suppose you’ve got spots for us in your Organization, Miss King?” Jon says, arching one brow and decidedly ignoring Tim.

“I do, it turns out,” Melanie says. “But honestly? I’m tired. That whole mind meld thing is exhausting. We can talk about it tomorrow.”

“Then I suppose this is goodbye?” Jon turns to him, and Tim can actually see some sort of- regret, maybe.

“You think you can get rid of me that easy?” Tim smirks. “No, I‘ll be back. But first I’m gonna take a month off _as far away from here as I can get_.”

“New Zealand,” Daisy says. “Or space.”

“Fiji,” Basira adds solemnly.

“Have a good time, Tim,” Martin wishes him.

“You too, all of you,” he replies, and then he is out the door, heading home, _free_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slaughter who??? Hunt who??? ALL of my girls are happy and living their best life  
and Jon and Martin are getting on fine too i guess bc im a sucker  
how does Melanie have Elias' powers??? bc shes the director and i say so  
what happened to Jonah Magnus' body and the panopticon??? god knows!!! but nothing good for that bastard i assure you  
possible up nexts: tim goes kayaking. peter lukas enjoys being lonely until something happens. melanie is a cool boss.  
thanks for reading!!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Next up!!!! Tim tries to take a kayaking trip! Helen remains my favorite avatar!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> was this written because i was up studying for another final and im procrastinating? yes  
are you going to see me complaining? probably not until ive failed the final because i wrote this instead of studying  
also shoutout to all the group chats on tumblr who both feed my love of this show and keep me entertained

“And you’re certain that this isn’t just another attempt to trap me in your hallways and keep me there, eating my fear eternally?”

“_Really, _Tim,” The distortion sighed monumentally. “All I _ever_ do is try to be nice to you people, and this is the thanks I get? Sure, I might eat a person every _once_ in a while, but it’s never been any of _you_.”

“Wait, like, _eat_ eat? Or just, whisking them of to your corridors.”

Helen gives him a dizzying grin, and he decides rather queasily that he doesn’t want the answer.

“Also,” He continues, “You _did_ try to eat me and Martin that once.”

She waves him off with her sharp, curling fingers. “That was _Michael _as much as it was me. And I’m me now as much as I’m _not_ Michael!” Her voice is rather too bright and cheery for him, and he dragged a hand down his face, closing his eyes against how damn confusing Helen could be. “Anyhow, you still haven’t told me yes or no.”

“Well,” Tim drawled, “I could buy a plane ticket for 800 or so round trip, or I could take a chance on the avatar of a fear entity _not_ eating me, whether literally or metaphorically, to take a vacation kayaking.”

Helen just shrugged, the motion seeming to swirl off of her and around her in ripples. “I did promise Melanie not to go after any of her friends.”

“Yeah, you. You promising isn’t exactly a binding contract.”

“I can take it back,” Helen sniffed, “rescind my offer, you know- I just remember how horrid travel was back when I was human-“

“Fine,” Time breathed. “At least this way I can just pack and leave, with way less planning.”

~~~~~

“So, do these really just go on forever with no sense to them?”

Helen led him with his hand wrapped into her sleeve, to avoid the imminent impaling of fingers. “Of _course _they do! What to you take me for, some cheap trick of a corn maze?”

“Oh, come off it, you’ve probably trapped plenty of people in corn mazes.”

“Well, yes,” Helen scoffed. “But that’s entirely different. Once they’re _in_ the maze, I can put them in the halls! There’s no comparison.”

“Way I see it, it’s less about how confusing you can make them and more just a sense of scale,” Tim continued. “I could be trapped in these halls forever and never know where I’m going, but if I’m in a corn maze, or a hedge maze, I can just peek over the top! And then I can see the end, but I still can’t ever reach it, and that’s just torture.”

“You’re thinking about it all wrong,” Helen stopped to turn around and face him. “The only true opposite to fear, Tim, is hope. As long as they can see the end like that, they’ll just… keep running, and running, and running. That’s not fear. It has to be… you’ve got to really start doubting yourself, you have to start losing yourself. It isn’t just the maze. It’s the mirrors, the lines, the portraits, the patterns. Shouldn’t this have led you in a circle? Are the mirrors actually reflecting you? Didn’t you run through this stretch hours ago, days ago, seconds ago?”

As she speaks, the halls distort around him, and he clutches her sleeve even as it shifts in his hand, an endless rope and a short reach away from the most dangerous part of this space, the only thing keeping him from the horrors she _is. _He wants, desperately, in equal parts to let go and run, and to keep holding on, and to cry, and to scream, and to sit silently, and he’s not sure suddenly if it is_ him _who wants these things or if it is _her_, body writhing with movement as it sits coiled and still in front of him, her eyes meeting his and not seeing him and seeing through him and-

~~~~~

“Tim,” Helen’s voice echoes less than usual

His eyes are still open. His eyes are still open. He’s watching her, watching him, he’s still holding her sleeve by threads but her long fingers are hesitantly hovering over his wrist.

“Helen,” He manages to blink. “What the _fuck_.”

“I’m sorry,” She says gently. “I didn’t mean to do it, but it did happen, so I’m sorry. But only because I didn’t mean to do it.”

“You enjoy being- this?” He says hollowly, and he can remember Danny, and he can see Jon’s face in his mind, so carefully upset that he was becoming less human, more monster.

Her face twists funnily. “I enjoy- being the Distortion being Helen. It’s better than being Helen alone in these halls or Helen dead, and better than being the Distortion being Michael being angry about the Archivist and the Institute. And if I have to enjoy being me being all of those in the past and the present and the future to still be some semblance of the me that came in here, I’ll take it.”

He rearranges his grip on her. “I never thought.”

“No, you didn’t,” Helen sniffed. “Honestly, for all the _knowing_ that you Eye-types do, you don’t actually end up thinking about anything.”

It’s a tense second before he lets out a small chuckle, which turns itself into laughter that tinges a little with manic relief. Helen joins him in laughing, her ghastly giggling sinking into his ears almost painfully.

“I accept your apology,” He finally says. “And- I’m sorry too, for what it’s worth.”

“Accepted.” Helen beams at him. “Let’s get back to your vacation, shall we?”

He smiles back at her, nods in agreement, and is about to open his mouth and say something no doubt dazzlingly witty, when a small voice comes from behind him, distant and close and devastatingly familiar.

“Tim?”

~~~~~

“So, I won the bet then?”

Sasha (Sasha, who’s face Tim does and doesn’t remember, who’s voice grates against his heart with equal forces of _rightness_ and _wrongness_, who is sitting across from him with her hand in his like an anchor) sips some of the water that they’d been given by the Denny’s wait staff, the breakfast in front of her long cold.

“Sasha,” Tim says incredulously. “I’ve just told you that you were body snatched and replaced by a fear god, Elias murdered both Gertrude _and_ Jurgen Leitner, who lived in tunnels under the Institute that stretch to the Millbank prison, Jon got kidnapped and injured several times, and then we stopped a ritual to bring _another_ fear god into our world while Elias got eaten by a monster crab that _Martin_ trained, and now the girl from Ghost Hunt UK has taken over and disbanded the Institute and is creating her own to actually study and combat said fear gods instead of _serving_ them as Elias intended, and, oh yeah, _Elias was actually Jonah Magnus also bodysnatching people the whole time_, and your take away is that I owe you money because Jon managed to fire off his _one_ braincell?”

“A bet’s a bet, Tim,” Helen said from her seat beside him, snacking on the long gone cold ‘french fries’ that had come with his burger.

“As far as I can tell,” Sasha pointed at him, “Everything you just said? Nothing I can actually do about it. All in the past. I could gasp and cry, and I’ll probably need a therapist for years once the shock and trauma really set in, but for now? I’d like to go home. I’d like to hopefully see my parents, or at least see Jon and Martin. And I’d like my money from our bet, seeing as how everything I had is probably gone.”

“I could go grab wallets from other people in my hallways,” Helen offers.

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Sasha says, remarkably straightfaced. “If you won’t let them out, at least let them be.”

“She’s got more common sense than you other three combined,” Helen tells Tim congenially. “You should probably take notes. Or lessons.”

“I’ll cancel my vacation plans,” Tim stands up. “We’ll catch the next flight back to England.”

“Actually,” Helen says. “You probably can’t do that, seeing as how you won’t be able to explain how you got to America in the first place.”

Sasha sighs. “Back through the hallways, then?”

“I thought you’d promised not to eat any of Melanie’s friends,” Tim accused. “Why didn’t you tell us Sasha was in there? Why didn’t you let her out before?”

“One,” Helen said slowly, in the manner of someone explaining a very simple concept, “I didn’t put her in there, technically. Michael did, even if I am Michael but he isn’t me. And I didn’t realize she _was_ in there. Do you know how many people there are, running around the halls right now? Do you think I can actually keep track of them, beyond a moving source of fear? I’m not the Eye.”

Sasha shrugs. “That tracks, I suppose.”

Tim just groaned. “Should we call Jon and them before we go?”

“Would they believe you without the proof?” Sasha asks, and he slumps further.

“It’s nice to have guests to walk with, and not just victims,” Helen says blithely.

“Let’s pay and get going, then.” Tim drops some of his hastily exchanged money onto the table, probably double what the cost of their untouched meal is. Helen stands and stretches in visual loops, as Sasha watches. The waiter comes around the corner to check on them and screams, scrambling back towards the kitchen.

“Shall we?” Helen offers her sleeve, and Tim sighs before grabbing it, his other hand reaching back for Sasha. She grips it tightly, and he can feel her tremble as they enter the doorway, but her face is as stoic and unflappable as ever.

“Don’t think that covering the meal counts for the bet,” she says, and Tim can only laugh.

~~~~~

The door opens right into the Archives, which Tim hadn’t expected, but Jon’s office light is still on, which- doesn’t come as a surprise.

“Martin?” Jon’s voice sounds tired, like he’d been seconds from falling asleep at his desk again. “Did you grab those files?”

“Present for you, Archivist!” Helen calls as Tim and Sasha stumble out, the ground feeling much more real than whatever the hallways are.

“Helen?” Jon’s door opens, and Tim can’t see his face with the warm yellow light of his office spilling out behind him, but the step back and small, “Oh,” are indicators enough that he can see her.

Helen steps back through the door without a goodbye

“Hey, boss,” Tim says as casually as he can. “Ran into someone in the hallways.”

Jon flicks at the light switch with a small croaking noise, and the brightness makes them all squint for a second, but Jon still turns to Tim. “It’s- it’s really her?”

”Yes.” It’s all he can say, but it’s enough.

“So, Jon,” Sasha says, arms crossed and a forced smile on her lips, “I suppose you’ll be wanting my sta-“

She’s cut off by Jon himself, who rushes for her, pulling her into a hug. Tim watches with only slightly less shock than Sasha herself, who loses her look of disbelief quickly in favor of hugging him back.

“Get in here,” she calls to him, and with a quick pull he’s part of their hug too.

“Got those files for you, Jon-“ Martin calls out before he’s even entered the Archive, but he stops short at the sight of them. Tim watches Martin make eye contact with Sasha, and then Jon, and then finally looks at him, and Tim can only nod.

“Oh,” Martin says, and then he’s hugging them too, and it feels very suddenly right. The four of them, back together in the Archives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now with 100% more Sasha and a statistically 150% happier ending!!!  
i might write even more, who knows? theres a hiatus going on and i can definitely just keep churning out the crack side of fixit fics that i desperately crave  



	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter Lukas has a very bad time.  
Clawdette has a very good time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been laboring through this like. In half hour bursts every five days since the last chapter. It’s not good! But it is fun!  
Also could I hypothetically tag lonelyeyes for this?? Yeah but I’m not gonna bc that’s not what this fic is about. Peter can be miserable about it

Peter picks his way across the beach;

The waves lap at the sand discordant, an echo of what waves  should be, and a worse echo of whispers that make his spine shiver deliciously;

He misses Elias misses James misses  Jonah  so exquisitely as he wanders, half sure the beach is in the Lonely and half knowing the sand he treks in belongs to beaches he’s never cared to know, wholly content to drift along in his thoughts deep in the belly of his god.

It was a bitter taste, clinging to his tongue, to realize that he hadn’t loved that man for the convenience and entertainment of it, as he was so sure he had convinced himself. It was sweet and syrupy like cough medicine the way he shook his hands out, wanting to hold him again. Somewhere, in his mind he rejoiced that even in this death and this sadness he was lonelier than ever, but for once it wasn’t an exultant, purposeful thing. He’d been well and truly taken aback by just how struck he was, how much knowing that he was lonely for him wasn’t planned and wasn’t wanted and wasn’t chosen by him for the sake of his god, but that he had well and truly had feelings, and now it could only ache.

The beach was less rocky now, more sand that made it into his shoes and left him feeling gritty. It felt real. It felt like something that wasn’t missing Elias. The beach morphed back to stone.

The sand stayed in his boots though.

He knew that whatever Elias had planned in their bet, he could have won. But that was when he would have been around to talk to, to egg him on, to compete with. Peter could, hypothetically, choose to swoop in and seduce anyone in the entire institute he chose into the Lonely, but what fun was there now that it wasn’t truly Elias he was stealing from? What did it matter if the Archivist was thrown into the Lonely as Elias planned?

Elias was gone. And any desire at all that Peter had held for interfering with the Institute was long gone. He ignored the summons when they found Elias’ instructions to make him the new Head. He ignored what he could from his meager grapevine of gossip about the girl they’d chosen to step up. Not like it would matter, introducing himself, not when it wouldn’t be Elias’ eyes looking at him from this new head.

And then he saw, impossibly, movement on the horizon. A stumbling soul? He wondered , drawing the fog around himself as he approached, to shroud himself from it.

But as he stepped closer, it quickly became apparent that the shape was not humanoid at all. And when he reached it, he found a crab, larger than himself, standing in the low waves.

The crab stared at him; Peter stared back, uncomprehending.

“What are you?” He asked it. It did not answer, most likely because it was a crab.

But it showed up in the Lonely for a reason. And Peter, with the way it’s eyes followed him, could not help but think that it was  here for him .

It moved then, coming in closer towards him, and he took a step back. Monsters of the Deep and Vast, he had plentiful experience with, but this was something unknown, and even here, in the grasp of his god, it... scared him.

The crab inched closer. Peter took another step back. And suddenly he realized the feeling behind it.

Hunted. He was prey, and this being was hunting him. Not the hunt, it was nowhere near a powerful enough fear inside him to be a true extension of another fear, but something, somewhere, had set this crab after him.

He turned and ran, gathering the mist around him and hoping desperately that it would be enough.

It was not.

He could feel the claws, the way the seemed to cut through the fog, and as they reached him, he understood.

“Jon,” Martin said, rolling his chair over to his boyfriend’s desk. “I’ve been thinking, and-“

Jon gave him a look. “Dangerous pastime, in this building.”

“I think we should try to track down Peter Lukas,” Martin steamrollers over his boyfriend’s interjection. “Elias wanted him to take over upon his removal, right? I think we should find out why. If it was in his plans, I’d bet there’s something there that we should be aware of.”

Jon puts down whatever paperwork he’s completing, and says, “Elias wanted him to seduce you into the Lonely and scar me to complete his ridiculous ritual to bring every Entity into our world.”

And then, a second later, “Ah. That’s fascinating to know. I think we need to go have a chat with Melanie.”

“Already dealt with, Jon,” Melanie says over the tea they brought her. She’s been in the office, redecorating in random bursts, and besides the very cool desk, just about none of Elias- Jonah’s furniture remains. “His plan completely dismantled. And with Helen’s help, I think we’ll have Peter Lukas far out of the way in case he ever tried avenging his ex-ex-ex-ex-ex-ex-husband’s murder.”

“Explain,  please ,” Martin stressed, and Melanie clutched her forehead.

“Sorry guys,” she closes her eyes tightly. “I’m not trying to be- cryptic, or keep information, I just- I hated when Elias did it, but I  get it. If he knew things the way I’ve been able to know things- it just kind of blends, and I forget that you all don’t necessarily  know  things either. Except you, Jon, obviously.”

“It’s fine,” Jon sighs. “Just- explain, please?”

She isn’t in the chair behind the desk, but rather perched on the edge in front of them, and she moves off of it to pace as she starts in. “You knew he wanted to use you for a ritual, but it- it was more like you were the ritual? He wanted you marked up by every fear, and then he’d have you read a statement that would function to bring the Entities into our plane of existence. Seeing as how you’re missing quite a few of them, and I’m making plans to make sure the ones you’re missing never get the chance, I think I’ve pretty safely cut that off.

“Martin on the other hand, was part of a bet between Elias and Peter, wherein if Peter could get Martin to join the Lonely and kill Elias, Peter would get the Institute, the Panopticon, and Martin, and of Peter lost, he’d have to let Jon into the Lonely, presumably to get marked up by yet another fear. And in order to prevent anything like that  ever  happening, I’ve collaborated with Helen, and we will be, very hopefully, eliminating the threat in much the same way Elias was eliminated.”

“You’ve sent Clawdette after Peter Lukas.” Martin’s voice was hard and flat, and Jon couldn’t help but share in his displeasure.

“You can’t just take  our crab and throw her at all of our dangerous problems,” he said angrily. If he had ever been told that he’d be sitting with Melanie King as his boss, debating her right to throw his and his boyfriend’s mega sized pet crab who had eaten their last boss at their ex-boss’ ex-husband who was a possible threat, he would have laughed them out of his office and possibly asked for them to be escorted to an asylum. As it was, this now felt like a very normal Tuesday.

“Clawdette is, very informally, my employee as well, so I took the liberty of sending her out to work. She’s earning her employee of the month award. And,” Melanie added with a raised eyebrow as they bristled, “Helen promised to bring her back safe.”

That, at least, was a relief.

Martin grabbed Jon’s hand and stood, pulling him up with him. Jon carefully sipped the last bit of his tea.

“Let us know when they get back then, yeah?” Martin asked, and Melanie nodded.

“You’ll be the first to know.”

Later that night, in the second bedroom of the flat that Martin had moved into with Jon, the door that Helen had left on their wall that looked far more like a Clawdette sized doggy door brushed open, and Clawdette scuttled in, content and full. Helen followed, her voice calling out for her friends.

“I’ve brought dear Clawdette back!”

She could hear the two scramble from whichever room they’d been in, and from the looks of it had caught them during dinner. They burst in, Martin throwing himself towards Clawdette and hugging her. 

“There’s my girl!” He crooned. Jon turned to Helen instead.

“Peter Lukas?”

“Dead as a door nail!” Helen’s voice rung. “Wish I could have seen it properly, but besides getting Clawdette into and out of the Lonely, it and I don’t really mesh well. But we’ve got a souvenir!”

She handed him a roughed up Captains hat. Jon looked at it, and then returned it. “Maybe give it to Melanie.”

“If you insist,” Helen sniffed, spearing the hat on a finger and bringing to rest crooked on her own head. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow?”

Another odd part of his now normal day to day life; working beside yet another avatar of a fear god in an effort to stop other fear gods’ avatars from being terrible.

“We’ll see you then,” he agreed, and Helen swept back through their door, and he turned back to Martin, still lavishing affection upon Clawdette.

Somehow, despite the madness that was his life, he found he was quite happier than he had ever really been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof. I don’t think I stayed consistent with tenses at for more than three paragraphs at a time! Oh well! Enjoy guys!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WHO LET THE CRAB OUT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quarantine got me -_- season 5 hitting hard I do not see it though, only my crazy fun world where nothing bad ever happens,,,,,
> 
> Right?

“Martin,” Jon called from his desk, squashed between the wall and the ever-growing pile of file boxes he pulled from the Archives, “didn’t we bring Clawdette in today?”

The large crab was very conspicuously  not  in her corner, which was truly more of an entire section of the room, lined with various torn blankets, three mattresses, and a large piece of driftwood that Helen had brought them from a beach somewhere.

“Yes?” Martin’s head popped in from the doorway, followed by the rest of him, carrying another folder of things for Jon to look through and two cups of steaming tea. “Have you lost our crab?” He set the first cup on his own desk, and handed Jon the folder and his own tea before fruitlessly approaching the white empty nest. “Did Melanie steal her for nefarious purposes again?”

“Killing Peter Lukas is hardly  _ nefarious _ ,” Jon scoffed. “But no, Melanie’s already gone home for the day. Ages ago. I checked.”

“You  _ knew _ ,” Martin accused good-naturedly. “Can’t you just  _ know _ where Clawdette is? Spooky beholding powers, activate?”

Jon took a sip of his tea. Perfect, as always. “Yes, because if there’s one thing we’ve learned about these fear entities and the powers they bestow upon us, it is that they are  convenient .”

Martin was still examining the nest Clawdette usually rested in. “No doors, right?”

“I’d usually hear it if Helen stopped by. And Helen usually stops by and tells me when Clawdette gets into the hallways on her own.” Jon set the tea down. He strained for actually knowing something from the Eye on purpose, but, as expected, received no such wisdom.

“I’ll text everyone, and maybe someone will ‘fess up to kidnapping her,” Martin said, before paling. “Oh god. What if someone’s actually kidnapped her? Like, to get back at you or us for- everything?”

Jon stood up, back cracking. Martin winced further with each loud pop. 

“No one has kidnapped our crab,” he said as decisively as he could, trying to convince himself as much as Martin. But now that the possibility was there, he was suddenly tallying up exactly how many entities and avatars were rather... at odds with the Eye these days.

“You don’t sound certain.” Martin sighed. “Can’t fool me, Jon.”

Jon took the defeat. “Fine. I’m reasonably sure our crab hasn’t been kidnapped, but I can’t prove otherwise.”

“I’ll text everyone,” Martin continued on, ignoring his boyfriend. “And if none of them have her, then we can start looking at our- enemies.”

Jon nodded his agreement, something rolling in his stomach as if already knowing the answer.

————

“What do you mean, she’s  gone ,” Basira practically growled. 

“Well,” Martin said, thin veneer of patience dripping with sarcasm. “She’s not here, or home, or with Helen, or with Melanie, so unless you, Daisy, Tim, or Sasha have made off with her-“

“Stuff it, Blackwood,” Daisy growled. “Attitude isn’t going to help us  find her.”

Jon shot Daisy a look. “We’re all stressed, I get it, but-“

“No, she’s right,” Martin sighed. “Jon, how the fuck could someone smuggle a giant crab out of the institute?”

“Well-“ Basira pulled out a list of names. “Here’s every still active avatar that we know of.”

Jon looked at the list. It was very long. His name was at the top.

“I don’t think going through this is going to help as much as you think it will,” Jon said with a remarkably straight face, “seeing as how the first suspects according to this are myself, Daisy, and Melanie.”

“You could have stolen Clawdette,” Daisy pointed at him. “And then started a search for your own crab that’s gone missing. The perfect alibi.”

“Should we check your freezer for crab meat too then?” Martin snorted. “Oh, that’s not- god. What if somebody  eats her!? She’s a crab, that- okay, stop laughing.”

“She can eat people, Martin,” Basira said wryly. “I hardly think she’s in danger of being a meal.”

“Ok, yeah, point.”

“But she is still missing,” Jon said. “And as odd as it sounds, I’d much rather have my sized man eating crab back here with me, thank you.”

Basira sighed. “Leave it to us, okay? We’ll find her. If only because we all know how upset Melanie would be if she was actually lost.”

“Thank you, Basira,” Martin said, Jon nodding along. They made their way back to the office, finished their work for the day, and even ate last nights dinner, re-warmed. And before Jon knew it they were half asleep, but his worry had knotted his stomach and it wasn’t going to let him sleep. 

“Martin,” he whispered, and Martin turned around in his arms to face him. 

“What, Jon,” He whispered back. 

It was utterly unnecessary to whisper now that they were both talking, but Jon couldn’t bring himself to raise his voice. “I don’t want to just leave it to Basira and Daisy. I’m worried.”

Martin sighed, but it was a sigh with one of those fond smiles at the end. “Yeah. Let’s go get her in the morning, hmm?”

Jon nodded, and let Martin pull him back down to relaxing, before finally sighing himself and falling into his usual restless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers: 
> 
> I’m joking about bad things. I swore only happy shit lmao.
> 
> But what! Is Clawdette! Doing!

**Author's Note:**

> so to go over:  
i know NOTHING about crabs beyond how to cook them  
YES Elias get EATEN i just didnt want to write it  
what is the crab? where did it come from? we just dont know ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  



End file.
